


Doesn't This Have a Name?

by Dirtcore Dreams (NakedEye)



Series: Kink My 'Tober 2019 [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clothed Sex, Coming In Pants, Costume Parties & Masquerades, First Time, Frottage, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masks, Underwear, Underwear Kink, in the closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 18:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20912219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NakedEye/pseuds/Dirtcore%20Dreams
Summary: Dean's finding that hiding behind a mask affords him more freedoms than he ever could've imagined-- including exploring more of himself.





	Doesn't This Have a Name?

**Author's Note:**

> Did I forget kinktober existed without tumblr around to remind me? Yes. Am I still gonna try to catch up? Yes. Did I accidentally make this twice as long as I wanted to? Also yes.

Dean didn’t think it would be this liberating.

He couldn’t have possibly imagined it was as simple as a mask. Some cheap cardboard, paint, and glitter and suddenly he was an entirely different person. Or maybe something even more daring. Maybe he was actually just more himself.

In either case, he’d never felt so electric. Sweeping through the campus masquerade party, he left everyone in his wake a-titter. He danced, even sang a little, flirted freely, even caught the eye of a couple men that he made furiously blush.

It was almost like it gave him a high. He didn’t care what anyone thought. He didn’t care what would be said. He wasn’t holding up this idea of who he should be. So he didn’t have to be scared of it getting back to his father, following him around campus, changing how he thought of himself, when he slid behind a little blue eyed beauty.

The guy was a little rangy, had thick, wild hair, but made a noise of surprise with the deepest, most gravelly voice that gave Dean the tingles. He was the kind of kid Dean would accidentally catch himself daydreaming about. No one knew he had this little fantasy of kissing a cute bookworm behind the stacks, of getting under some dude’s sweater vest and fogging up his glasses.

And this way no one had to know. He was as anonymous as everyone else. He could be anybody. In this moment, he was just some fantasy of himself, of what other people wanted. Hopefully one that the guy whose waist he currently had his hands around was interested in.

Those big eyes squinted at him in mild admonishment, like he was trying to have sweets before dinner, but it was followed with a smile. “I’m not really part of the refreshments table. Though… I could be convinced to offer a taste.” Dean licked his lips, tightened his grip, ran his thumbs up over the other boy’s shirt to feel his skin.

“Oh I’m looking for more than a taste. I think I’m interested in the whole damn meal,” he purred, stepping closer so he could keep his drawl nice and low-- the way he knew made peoples’ toes curl. Dean’s companion bit his lip, scanned the other people at the party, then took one of his hands to lead him away.

Dean’s heart was racing. He’d never dared to actually try something like this, to make those thoughts in his head real. This other boy was warm. Dean was desperate to know how they felt pressed together. Would kissing another guy be that much different? Would he know what to do with… well anything? Would it really be as utterly erotic as he imagined-- to press their groins together and feel one another’s hardness?

His mind was almost going faster than his heart and his head was spinning by the time they got to an upstairs room. Once the door was shut all the background noise drowned out and he could feel his pulse in his neck. His hands flexed at his side. His mouth was dry. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

The other boy stepped forward, reached for his mask, and Dean snapped to grab his wrist before he could lift it. “That stays on.” He said it a little short, definitely scared. The other boy stared so intensely at him it made his stomach drop, but then slowly nodded his head.

“Alright,” he murmured, “you’re okay. I’m not gonna push. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He stepped back, and then away. Dean thought for a second he ruined it, but the guy just moved away to undress himself, lie back against a bed with only his briefs on. They were soft cotton, a little thin, grey with white piping. Dean stared at them a little too long-- glued to the way he had soft tufts of dark hair bursting out the edges, the way the front bowed out, full and heavy looking, the way he could see each flare of excitement when it jumped.

There was something simultaneously so lewd and so sweet about it. He wanted to feel that bulge pressed against his thigh… his ass. He wanted it to be pressed insistently. He wanted it to just casually brush him as he was being held. He laughed nervously when the other boy made a soft noise to grab his attention away from it-- eyebrow raised, teasing smirk present.

“Sorry,” Dean grunted. “I-uh… you look… good.” He winced, and turned away to try and catch up with himself, undressing slowly to disguise it. He’d never been so stilted in his life. This was usually the easy part for him. He could make girls fall apart under his fingers even better than he could bring motors to life. And yet.

His hands shook as he shuffled his way over to the bed, tenting his boxers, looming over the other boy. Slowly he leaned over, guiding the other boy back with his body until they’d shuffled against the head board, legs threaded, bellies touching when they breathed. Dean swore he could cum from just this. There was something so infinitely more intimate about being this close to another man. To feel his breath, smell the warm cider on it, thrill at their leg hair tickling each other.

He let out a low groan when he was pulled down, pressing themselves together, but it was swallowed in a kiss. It was awkward with the masks, their teeth bumped, he drooled down the other boy’s chin. But he bucked at the touch. He ground his hips as their tongues tangled. He felt stars burst behind his closed eyes as warmth and wetness gushed between them.

He made a hurt sound as he had the most premature ejaculation of his life, but the other boy’s breath hitched. He squirmed underneath Dean. He held tight to the back of Dean’s neck and rolled his hips until he was following after, clinging like a limpet. For a long few minutes they simply breathed into each other-- lips wet and still touching, temples pressed together, hands absentmindedly roaming.

“S-sorry about that,” Dean husked, blush just now making its way to his cheeks. Fuck. He hadn’t cum in his pants since he was in high school.

A small laugh broke the tension. The other boy fell back against the pillows, totally splaying his limbs. There was something unbearably cute about how his armpit hairs were curled with sweat, how his nipples were a little too big, how his hip bones emphasized his gawkishness. Dean really wanted to kiss him again. “It’s alright. You got me pretty keyed up too. We could… wait a bit. Try again.” He said it with his eyes averted, fingers playing nervously with the sheets.

Dean’s chest constricted, excitement and fear equal. “You’d want to?” Suddenly he felt very aware that he’d definitely put on stress weight his first year at college, that his underwear were several years old, that he’d eaten some garlicky hors d’oeuvres before this.

The other boy bit his lip, nodded, shyly drifted a hand over his wet crotch. “You can still keep the mask on...” Amidst everything else he’d been focused on, Dean’s attention had completely drifted away from that. He lifted his hand to it, as if to remind himself it was even there, and lightly fingered at the edges.

It felt… silly to hide his face while putting so many other vulnerabilities out on the table. Slowly he pulled it off, ruffled his hands through his hair. “I-uh… don’t think I need it actually.” It took a minute to work up the bravery to look back at his companion, eyes taking their time to roam back up to him.

When they did, he’d removed his too, and his gaze was roaming all over Dean’s face, taking him in. “Wow,” he whispered, totally in awe, “that did you a real disservice. Your freckles are so cute.” Dean hadn’t been called cute since his mom died, and certainly never by another man. He thought he would’ve rankled at it, maybe even bared his teeth. But he melted, ducking his head and stammering as a hand came up to brush at his cheeks-- over the bridge of his nose.

“You’re pretty… pretty yourself.” He winced at his trippings, but came along when the other boy pulled him closer. They laid side by side, legs tangling. Dean pillowed his head on the proffered shoulder, gently bent forward to lick and then kiss and then suck till he left a mark on the other boy’s neck. “I’m Dean,” he murmured against the skin, wrapping his companion up in his arms, casually brushing himself up against that thin hip.

“Castiel,” the other boy said, turning his head to steal a kiss, running his hands through Dean’s chest hair.

“Cas,” Dean repeated, affirming it with himself. “I like that.”


End file.
